


And The Snow Falls

by Elinie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elinie/pseuds/Elinie
Summary: In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. - Albert Camus





	1. Chapter 1

The bar is dull and crowded with those in the desire for cheap drinks and even cheaper company. He wishes neither first nor second. He is happy being alone on this Friday night with a glass of whiskey in his long fingers and crazy December rain outside. It's an ordinary Muggle bar with some stupid name just above the creaky wooden door and he likes it. No one is daring enough to bother him here, rumors are saying he's some retired veteran with the post-traumatic syndrome and still remarkable combat skills, so he snorts into his muddy glass, admitting that those rumors spreaders might be right in their assumptions. 

He truly does have remarkable combating skills, and the bartender is wise enough to whisper about this fact to those who seek for the cheap entertainment on some quiet evenings before the weekends. It's been two months ago. He was sitting there, in some far corner, drinking his whiskey and admiring the buzzing inside his head. And there was this guy, some lanky, shabby drinker with a golden tooth and total lack of fear. The bartender once said that he might be a veteran with his own traumas as well, but Snape was no Muggle-psychotherapist after all. And he kept coming here for whiskey, not for psychological confessions. At first, when this golden-toothed man began seeking for unnecessary attention, Snape just sneered and pretended not to notice. Seconds turned into minutes but veteran stack near Snape's table as if it was waxed in glue. 

"You are a veteran yourself, aye! Tell me, what did we fight for just to end up there drinking our lives away?", he demanded to know. Snape just looked over the rim of his glass and made one more sip. The man continued, walking closer. 

"We are drinking to forget, we are not drinking to forgive! What was the reason for all those wars if we never learned how to live in peace with our own thoughts?" he cried self-pitifully, grabbing Snape by the collar of his black jumper, Muggle-style. Snape got up, trying to leave, but the man followed him, intending to grab again. 

"They made you a weapon and told you to find peace!" he spat once more, reaching for Snape's sleeve, right there, where his wand was hidden. Snape turned on his hills, wringing the veteran's unfortunate arm behind his back and pushing him aside. 

"Stay back. War does not determine who is right, it determines who is left", Snape finally ceased to answer, paid for his drink and left the bar. The words of the veteran still echoing in his mind. 

He never intended to survive. Waking up in the Infirmary of St.Mungo instead of the dreadful coldness of the Shrieking Shack was, indeed, a pleasant surprise. He reminded himself of a hanged-man whose rope was cut by some miraculous hand right at his last gasp. He was justified from his crimes, wished a speedy recovery and told to leave for good the sooner the better. He frowned, snorted and soon left. 

He never asked for pity or company, he was a former Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! He never asked for money, he was smart enough to make a good fortune during his years of Potions Master, but sometimes, on rare occasions like that December rainy night in the bar, he just wished for a company different from the ever-talkative bartender or the veteran wrecked by just another meaningless war. 

So time passes, he buys some small and rather elegant by his own judgment house in Muggle district, continues his brewing and drinks whiskey from the muddy glass in some grey and a rather unpleasant bar. 

It's just an ordinary Friday night again, he is sitting in his distinct corner surrounded only by pale electric lamps and dusty tables, he is drinking his whiskey again, more admiring the buzziness in his head than actually drinking. When solitary becomes too much, he just walks into this bar. It's just an ordinary night but something catches his attention, something scratches right in the back of his thoughts telling him to pay attention. So he starts observing. Snape was a spy, he could notice everything while staying hidden. 

The glass is clinging in woman's fingers, touching some precious metal, he is hearing her snuffings, her unsteady breaths. He knows her, oh, dear, he does! This curly untamed hair, these honey-colored eyes, this look of Know-It-All, broken Gryffindor bravery! It was her three years ago who found him and begged McGonagall to let him recover in Hogwarts Infirmary! She used to visit him at that time, just sitting in the far corner of the room in some old squashy chair, reading heavy books and whispering to him that he was a Hero. The world never needed a Hero, the world needed to justify its own sins. 

He wonders what she is doing here. Snape was sure that she got married, found a decent job in the Ministry and gave birth to some unsufferable ginger-heads to broaden the Weasley-clan. But she's crying and drinking some cheap red wine and looking at her engagement ring clinking on the side of her dirty glass. 

She notices him. There's a spark of hope in her blood-red eyes and he is cringing at this thought, why would she be glad to see him at all? She salutes with her glass towards him. 

"Let's drink for my broken engagement and lifeless life, Professor"

"I'm not your Professor anymore", he snaps. 

"You will always be my Professor like you will always be a Hero", she answers softly and drinks from her glass. 

The chair creaks on the floor as he gets up and leaves the bar. It's raining heavily again. Crazy December. The entire world seems to go mad. The cold wind is blowing, reaching through his too thin black coat, making him shiver. The mud under his heavy boots is making the road slippery. He hurries to the Apparition point. Soon he will be home. He will make himself a good cup of tea, fetch some Potion journal and spread in front of the fireplace. The fireplace cost him a fortune but he has spent enough time suffering from cold and dampness in Slytherin dungeons. He wishes just for a little bit of warmth, that's why he keeps coming to this bar each Friday. Snape wishes for the snow to fall and her words are echoing in his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

It's raining again. Not so typical for December weather, but her life has never been typical after all. So she is struggling to stay in peace with her heavy thoughts while drinking some tasteless tea in a small kitchen with a single table and a three-legged uncomfortable stool. However, it is her kitchen, and she is happy to be here. Her wage is decent enough to allow herself this small and rather unremarkable house in some faraway district surrounded by introverted Muggles. 

She sighs and takes a sip of her Earl-grey without sugar from the only personal item she is left with - her chipped cup with a big rose flower on the side. She begins to like her home, it is her own now and the feeling is rather strange. She never had something of her own before apart from her ginger Crookshanks, for sure, but it was not the same. She used to have her parents house but it stopped being her own right that destined moment when she had found out she was a witch and left for Hogwarts. She stopped being her parents' little girl and started being some pariah, who tried to find her own place under the sun. 

As for Hogwarts, she admits to herself while stroking some dusty patterns on the table surface with her finger, it has never felt like home for her there. She always tried to be someone instead of just being herself: first, she was a clever daughter of proud parents, second, she was the best friend, the so-called "brain" of Golden Trio, third, she was some Ministry clerk trying desperately to lead the useless fighting for the rights of Magical Races. Fourth, she was an unfortunate girlfriend of now-famous Quidditch player, she looks at her engagement ring and feels the tears prickle in her eyes. The loss of Ron could never seem so hard.

He was her best friend, always brave and funny, always trying to listen and clumsy in his attempts to care about her. They were destined to be together, or so they thought. Everything was written in the stars, everything had been decided for them. 

They were going to get their NEWTs, to save the world, to win the battle, to share the kiss among the ruins of Hogwarts and after that, they were destined to become a couple, to get married and to broaden the Weasley-clan with seven or more children! She sigs and rubs her nose bridge: she never intended to be the mother of seven children, after all, the very thought scares her to death. So never intended Ron: he was more interested in his Quidditch and silly fangirls than in his supramental school friend so he told her that.

"Mione... Err...You know - he began while scratching the back of his neck - I'll always love you, but we simply don't fit. You need someone who could understand your fads and I need someone who could share my passion. Anyway, you'll always be my friend and the Burrow will always welcome you home".

Fads... That was she to all of them: the insufferable Know-It-All failed to find her own place under the sun!

As for the home, she had one now. It was her own and she wouldn't care about its wrecked state and dusty interior. Her thoughts returned to yesterday's night when she was mourning her broken engagement. She didn't have a place to go and her new-purchased home was dirty and even more isolated than her heart had been, so she chose the first-got bar and walked inside, ordering a glass of some nameless red wine. She wished her parents were there. She could cry on her father's shoulder and pretend that everything was going to be okay, but instead, they never managed it to Britain and they probably hated her now, after her pathetic attempts to restore their memories and to make them try to understand her intentions during the Final Battle.

She became on orphan with living parents. So she walked into the bar, warmed her glass in her cold fingers and listened to that crazy December rain pouring outside, useless as her life. And he was there, her sulky and gloomy former professor. It was rather unusual seeing him in the Muggle-bar, but he was Half-blood, after all, he should know something about Muggles! And it was Friday and the place was rather isolated yet dusty. She decided to leave her thoughts for herself, Snape never seemed the social type of a person. But something in his dark eyes catches her attention: the way he was looking around as if to find some console in that rainy evening, the way he cradled his drink in his long, elegant fingers, the way he stared at her. She felt the chills run down her spine, so she managed the first stupid thing that came to her mind - she saluted with her drink and announced her broken engagement.

As if Snape could really care about someone's love life! Stupid! She proclaimed herself incredibly stupid. The brightest witch of her generation, Hermione damned Granger was drinking cheap wine in the bar.

Though, everyone has its own ways of coping.

Today's morning, when she has finally moved to her new apartment, she noticed something that made her feel numb: there was a house right in front of her own, and they shared an old cherry-tree near the garden-fence. It was not a remarkable house, rather average but elegant in its own way: two floors with an attic and a basement, modern blinds to her surprise, red-bricked chimney, faded lawn full of herbs in Spring and a white wooden fence. Nevertheless, what surprised her the most was the smell she didn't hope to feel again: sandalwood, burned wood, lemongrass, and juniper. She closed her eyes, inhaling, that smelled like Potion's Lab.

When she opened her eyes again, the blinds on his window shifted and she saw him - her former Professor, smoking in grey December morning. She nodded to him and waved her hand politely, he frowned in response.

She thought him a Hero, he appeared to be rather mortal in his grey faded jeans, black sweater, and Muggle house. And they were neighbors now.

It is raining again, she is sitting in her dusty kitchen and wishes for snow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my dear readers, for your kudos and reviews, you make me extremely happy!

_"As motionless cars rust on driveways and curbs_  
_You take off your raincoat and stretch out your arms_  
_We both laugh out loud and surrender to it_  
_The sheer force of the sky and the cold magnet Earth"_

_Snow Patrol - What If This Storm Ends?_

Snape is walking through the noisy neighborhood, trying to avoid this three-times cursed heavy rain pouring again. It seems as if someone tore a hole right in the middle of the sky and above his very head and threw all the water he could find into this hole. Snape clenches his teeth and keeps walking. He has got a new neighbor now and this newfound information never ceases to amaze him. Who would have thought? Granger girl is living right in front of his house! Or is it Weasley now? 

Snape shakes his head and reprimands his own inner voice for the stupid and unwelcome thoughts. Who cares about her? And why should he? 

Snape rubs his gloved hands against each other and struggles to get through the shrubbery growing everywhere. When he bought his house, he at least was hoping to appear in some distant Muggle district but instead, he ended up in a small cozy village, surrounded by rose bushes, blossoming in summer, and tearing his heavy coat apart in winter. Apparently, his life is as crazy as ever. 

He hates this village. All the smiley faces, forever noisy and nosy children, overprotective old ladies trying either to invite him for tea or get him married. He shudders at this thought. Snape lifts his head up and looks at the sky, now crying with December rain. He feels entirely lost. Sure, he has never sought for the company, he has always been perfectly well with his books, his worn-out plaid, he kept as a trophy from dungeons, his Friday nights in the dull bar and... Life has a foolish tendency of throwing hope at a person's face right at the moment when everything seems perfectly lost. 

He doesn't know how to hope nor does he understand why and what for. He used to be perfectly content with his quiet life of unremarkable rural apothecary and thrice-damned Hero of the thrice-damned War with the thrice-damned Order of Merlin, which he threw in some distant cupboard in his kitchen! Snape sneers to himself, thinking about the irony of life: for all this time he kept clinging to the only thought remained to him, he wished they would think him a Hero, and when they finally did, he threw his Order away, wishing they would leave him alone. So they did.

And now he keeps threading his way through the rain and feeling completely confused and...lost. Snape has never felt lost in his entire life! At first, he used to be some street urchin, stealing and fighting to survive just one more empty and hungry day. When he became a wizard, his struggling continued. He either tried to impress forever-bright Lily or tried to keep forever-stupid Maradeurs away from himself. Thirdly he was jumping between the forces of Light and Darkness, trying to impress both parties. And finally, he struggled to survive while lying on the dusty and wrecked floor of the Shrieking Shack. But never ever in his life has he felt lost! Until now.

Snape lets out a heavy sigh and turns around to walk into his herbs garden now radiating with the gray and dull wintry atmosphere. Some fading candlelight is shining from the window of his new neighbor, so Snape winces at this thought. She seems insufferably annoying to him, this Granger girl, who used to drive him crazy with her endless questions and forever-initiative during her students years. For now, she is just entirely polite, wishing him "good evening" and "good morning", asking her quiet "can I help you somehow, Sir?" and just walking around his withered garden without a purpose.

He doesn't know what is bothering her, nor does he want to find out, but she keeps invading in his life like some kind of restless ghost. Snape knows that she works at the Ministry, trying to fight for the rights of Magical Races like she always used to do, he knows that each Thursday she is meeting with her two stupid friends and for three weeks now she has only one friend left since she broke up with Weasley. Every Friday she is walking into the bar and is drinking Merlot till midnight. When midnight strikes she gets up, wishes him good evening and trails home soaking in the rain. Ever-bright Miss Granger seems totally numb to Snape and he has never been the one to walk away from the mystery. So he walks into his garden and freezes in the shadows of skeleton-trees.

She is sitting under his old cherry-tree, rubbing her hands against each other and noticing nothing. The rain becomes drizzle but the weather is still grey and rather unpleasant. There is a candle burning on the windowsill of her little kitchen and she is watching the candle shadows dancing on the walls. She looks like a little girl lost in her own nightmares, however, she has never been either little or lost to anyone. He watches her. Her previously untamed hair now became a cascade of warm brown curls, descending down her shoulders, her eyes are haunted with something deep and painful and he knows this hidden pain pretty much well, she is freezing under the rain but keeps watching her candle. Her thoughts are far away from this place. Couldn't be that she suffers from her break up this much, could it? 

"What are you doing in my garden, Miss Granger?"

She jumps with a startle and turns around to face him. 

"I... Sir...Forgive me, I just like sitting under your tree", she mumbles rubbing her hands in uncertainty. 

"The weather is no good for pleasant entertainment, Miss Granger"

"I don't want to go home, Professor, and I don't care about the weather", she sighs turning away from him. 

"I'm not your Professor", he snaps habitually. She just shrugs. 

"You will forever be Professor as you will forever be a Hero". 

"You foolish girl", he curses under his breath and turns around to walk home. 

She doesn't hear him, she just keeps watching her candle and rubbing her freezing fingers. Snape shakes his head and casts Warming Carms at her. When he closes his door, he notices that a small smile touches her frozen lips. Right at this moment the lightning strikes, the thunder roars, and the heavy rain begins pouring. Both neighbors wince at this and wish for snow. 


	4. Chapter 4

The weather is dull and damp again. The rain has stopped a few hours ago but the sky is still covered with heavy gray clouds, threatening to rain in torrents in any upcoming second. It seems like the whole world is trapped in some kind of magical cloak hiding everyone from the sun or hiding the sun from everyone.

Christmas is coming but it feels there will be no snow, no frost, no dancing snowflakes or festive atmosphere. Everything looks entirely grey and lifeless reminding him of Slytherin dungeons.

Bah! Humbug! Snape scowls at these thoughts, involuntary quoting famous Dickens’ saying, and takes a sip of his Earl-grey from the white porcelain cup. He recalls how he bought this fine tea pair when he got his very first salary. Street rat, homeless urchin, Snape yearned for beautiful things, so he was methodically surrounding himself with items valuable for him. Magic books covered in leather, porcelain items adorning his grey rooms, thick emerald-colored carpet, and the fireplace. For years and years, those things were his only treasure and solace. Almost all of them are gone, destroyed by the forces of Light and Darkness hating him with equal hatred. Snape sighs and takes another sip.

He doesn’t care for Christmas but it’s his first one without cunning games, talented pretending and fateful battles. And he feels numb. Snape’s life became a pleasant lazy routine which he quickly got bored from. Of course, he has his brewing, he takes care of his herbs garden and he has his usual customers but for the rest, his life is as dull as this strange rainy weather.

And then there is Miss Granger.

Snape winces and puts his cup away cleaning it with some nonverbal Charm. He doesn’t know what to think about her. She confuses him, distracts him and annoys him this lonely woman with untamed hair. They keep meeting at the bar where he goes every Friday. She walks there while he has already spent some hours sitting in the faraway corner close to the fireplace, orders some cheap red wine and always ends up next to him. Neither he nor she talks to each other but the silence is not unpleasant. They drink and watch the flames dancing in the hearth, they think, they exchange understanding glances, they wish each other a soft “Goodnight” and walk home never far from each other.

And then the Saturday morning would come, Miss Granger would invade his garden bench again and her dumbstruck condition would begin. She just keeps sitting on his bench no matter the weather and keeps looking without seeing. And he watches her. Not to say he cares, but watching the infamous Golden Trio with that annoying Know-It-All became his long-lived habit. Either he doesn’t have more interesting things to do.

Today is Sunday and he hasn’t seen her for three days. His Friday night out was spent alone at the bar, she never appeared. Saturday was even duller and empty. Sunday morning met him with deafening screams of her hungry cat. Snape opened his back door and called the poor animal inside. Orange beast rushed inside, sniffing his spread palm suspiciously.

Snape feels perplexed. She was one who found him at the Shrieking Shack and probably it was her who convinced outrageous Minerva that he indeed hadn’t been a traitor and deserved at least healing for his wounds. She was the one to bring him books and annoy him with endless babbling. She was the one who sat near his bedside with a book lying on her lap. She was the only one.

He hasn’t seen her for three days.

Miss Granger always wished him her good morning and curiously asked about his injuries and wounds. She was the one who brought him birthday Cake and left it at his doorstep without saying a word. And she always asked about different plants and herbs growing in his garden. And the one to complain about Ministry idiots and their stupid upcoming laws she had been trying to change. She invaded Snape’s life somehow. And he hasn’t seen her for three days.

Snape looks down at her cat curling on his floor and thinks about his options. She could be staying with Potter, for instance, Christmas is coming and the whole Grimmauld is probably full with Weasley-clan chattering happily about holidays. Or she could make peace with Weasley and making plans for the rest of winter break together. Also, she could be doing some research at Ministry; she used to work at weekends several times in the past. However, she never disappeared for this long!

Snape frowns and reaches for his wand hidden in his trouser pocket. He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating. Here it is, his memory about the Birthday Cake left at his doorstep. Silvery raven slips from the tip of his new acacia wand with Thestral hair core and flies into the open window. Snape watches the bird disappear. After all, Doe was a mere symbol of his life-bond and eternal duty to protect Potter-boy, once his vows were fulfilled, Patronus turned into a more suitable spirit.

Having been left to his own company, Snape spent a lot of days trying to improve some Potions and Charms, including Patronus. He managed to teach it to not only spread the desired message but also to detect the interlocutor whereabouts. Snape hoped his Charm worked this time. This at least would save him from the unnecessary visit to Potter in search for Miss Granger.

He feels his skin tingles and the images begin floating in front of his mind eye: there she is, walking around the old abandoned cemetery in her grey coat too thin for this weather, and her eyes are haunted with some old pain hidden somewhere. Snape turns around and apparates right away.

“Miss Granger, would you care to explain yourself?” he snaps instead of saying hello. She startles and looks at him with wild eyes.

“Professor? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same. Your cat keeps destroying my food supplies and deafening me with his hungry screams while you are having a rather pleasant walk at the cemetery, care to enlighten why?”

_What is your bloody business?_ – She thinks.

“Pleasant? Pleasant?! The weather is damned cold and…” she cries. Snape raises his eyebrow.

“Language, Miss Granger, and it takes us back to the previous question: why are you here?”

“I didn’t want to be alone” she answers quietly, he almost struggles to hear.

“What a marvelous logic! So, you chose the graveyard, instead of going to your friends or visiting your parents?”

At these words, she explodes.

“Don’t touch my parents! You have no right to…”

“Silence, Miss Granger, I’ll take you home where you can copy with yourself properly”

She looks up at him like a lost little girl, her lower lip is trembling.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be left alone, please?”

Snape shakes his head and reaches for her.

“Come with me, Miss Granger, it would do you no good if you freeze in this bone-freezing afternoon”

She hesitates for a second, as if considering his words and her options, and then takes his hand.

“I don’t want to be alone” she mumbles, closing her eyes. Snape lets out a heavy sigh.

“You won’t. Your cat misses you and the weather forecast predicts snowstorm. No need to be alone during the storm warning”

“You have a radio?” she cries totally impressed.

“I even have a computer” he sneers in response.

He holds her closer and apparates from the cemetery. It might finally snow, or so the forecast says, and Snape cannot but hope it would.


	5. Chapter 5

It is snowing finally. The white whirl is dancing down from the sky and covering dark and bare soil with a warm and thick blanket. The fine frost hit and now it is drawing some fancy patterns on the kitchen window. The kitchen is warm and is full of the thick aroma of herbs, stew, and herbal tea. It is cozy and the lonely woman, sitting on the chair near the windowsill, wants to stay there forever. But the house owner is making some strange smelling tea, probably filled with calming potions, and is paying her no attention. So, she thinks, let him pump her up with Calming Draught and throw her away to her empty house, at least she is not alone for the upcoming two hours or so.

The entire situation: she is sitting in Snape’s kitchen and waiting for a cup of tea from him, and he hasn’t killed her or scorned her yet, seems unbelievable. She keeps waiting.

About her strange encounter with Snape… Hermione isn’t sure what exactly she feels about or towards her Potions Master. He always was strange and alluring. Hiding in his dungeons, creating and improving the already existing formula, he, at the same time, never asked for world recognition or even a little gratitude. Snape kept fighting his own fights and doing his own deeds, leaving no place for anything else. She struggled to understand him, though she was longing to do so.

“Why did you help me?”

Snape shrugs, without giving her a single glance.

“It’s cold outside and the weather is no good for a walk”.

“How did you find me?”

“Patronus Charm”, Snape softly answers, stirring something in a pot.

“I haven’t seen your Doe”, Hermione mumbles.

“There’s no Doe, anymore, Miss Granger, it has changed right after the Final Battle”

“Changed?” she exclaims, intrigued, “But why? Oh, sorry, it’s none of my business, I already know too much”

“Miss Granger”, Snape continues strictly, “Stop babbling and drink your tea finally. After all, my private life would become public domain in any case, thanks to Mister Potter’s lack of thinking and a long tongue. As for the Doe, believe me, or not, I never linked its represent with my own spirit animal. It was just a symbol of what I could have had and what I had already lost. The symbol of my mistakes and misleading, if you would. So, I was entirely relieved and grateful, when it had changed”

Hermione takes a white cup from his hands and inhales deeply.

“Lavender, chamomile and mint, how pathetic!”

“Could be”, Snape unexpectedly agrees, “But it’s the best remedy for stress, plus there are three drops of Calming Draught and you are in distress”

“It’s my favorite tea”, Granger softly agrees.

“Why did you find me, Professor?”

“It’s no good to be left alone in such weather, besides, I got tired of your cat”, Snape answers, scratching Crookshank’s ears.

“It’s highly unlikely” Hermione chuckles, watching them, and Snape notices that her hands are shaking. He recognizes her condition all too well: limbs-shaking, lips trembling, her pupils are wide and her skin is pale, uncontrollable tremors and unbearable headache. He conjures a blanket and gives it to her.

“There, keep yourself warm”

“But I’m not cold”, she protests vaguely. Snape shakes his head inflexibly.

“You have twenty minutes before the aftermath begins”

“Aftermath? What aftermath?”

“Aftermath of the Cruciatus curse”

“But how…” she chokes. Of course, he knows! He notices everything! Who else could know about the repercussions she is suffering from if not Snape? He watches her attentively, staying silent.

“Who was it?”

“Bellatrix”, she whispers, “Last winter. Malfoy Manor”

“The bitch died too easy”

“Indeed”, she agrees, “Do you know? Of course, you don’t, you hadn’t been there… Molly Weasley killed her, it was a rather remarkable spectacle”.

“Molly has always been the fierce lioness when it came to her children”, Snape chuckles.

Pale candlelight shadow is playing across Hermione’s wrist and Snape frowns, noticing the word on her skin. He steps closer and turns her wrist to the light, “Mudblood” says the engraved name, decorated in ugly scars. His palm is warm and callused, her fingers are trembling.

“It’s nothing, Sir…” she whispers guiltily, trying to take her hand away, but he doesn’t let go.

“It is the reason why we won this damned war in the end! And it is the reason why everything started at the very beginning. Don’t let it determine you, Miss Granger, why did you let it scar? There is a remedy, after all…”

At his words, she breaks down.

“I didn’t care! I thought I was dying at that damned Malfoy Manor and all our battles were in vain! The world I always wanted to be a part of despised me! My friends remembered me only when they wanted my help with essays, exams or riddles! My own parents didn’t remember me anymore because I Obliviated them trying to save their lives. No one noticed me then, and no one would notice me in the future, so what’s the tragedy about some stupid word? At least, they were right in something – I would never find my place in Magical reality”.

“You spent your whole youth trying to save some helpless idiots you called friends. You tried to impress people instead of making your own way in the Magical world. You kept quoting someone’s words in your essays instead of expressing your own thoughts. You were too used to relying on someone else's opinion. I wanted to teach you to think. Not to copy someone else’s works but you wanted to be noticeable too much to question my reasons. No wonder your friends used you in the end”.

She stared at him, shocked by his unexpected resentment for her.

“We wanted the world to notice us”, she whispers, “And when it finally did, it was already too late”

“Why you kept coming to the bar on Fridays? Snape asks. She shivers.

“It’s stupid, I know, but I wanted to make sure you were real. Besides, you always let me express my own ideas, while we were drinking at the bar”

“Real? Why?”

“Because I thought you were dead!” she cries and predicted aftermath finally founds her. She starts trembling, her lips are quivering, her pupils are widening, teeth clattering, tears rolling down from her cheeks, while she mumbles about how scared she is, how lonely she feels and how her parents hate her for saving their lives.

“I thought you were dead, and it killed me. After all, you were the only one to ever notice me”. She is trembling, clutching his shirt, and something he thought long dead inside of him breaks down.

He pulls her closer; his lips hesitantly touch her own, while she is shivering in his arms. His hands find their way under her shirt, and she is clinging to him as if her own life depends on his touch in these quiet and desperate minutes. His fingers, long and elegant, caress her untamed curls, wipes away her tears and chase out her fear. He was never the pity-sex type but it is exactly what they need this snowy night in the middle of the nothingness that their post-war future has become. 

He hugs her tight and kisses her again.

They will deal with the consequences tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

The weather is cold and frosty. It is snowing outside again. The white feather-like snowflakes are whirling down from the sky, covered with dark and heavy clouds. The frost is drawing surreal patterns on the kitchen windows again. The house is warm and full of light, no matter the weather or time of the season.

Snape is standing near his kitchen window and watching the world outside. Twelve month have passed since that remarkable autumn night when he found her suffering from the aftermath of her former life.

They spend this year together, living between two houses and two separate lives but always kept meeting near the old cherry-tree in the herbs garden. The morning after their remarkable one-night affair, Hermione left, leaving Snape thinking, hesitating and deciding. He kept watching her carefully but didn’t interfere.

He knew that she needed at least cure for her symptoms but she was too stubborn to accept someone’s help and understanding, least from someone like him, so he decided to wait instead. The former spy knew how to stay patient in the middle of the apocalypse after all.

She worked in the Ministry at that time, kept wasting her talent and her youth with a job no one cared about. He wanted to scream at her, to shake her, to make her understand that it was fully up to her to make the world notice her gift, but he knew she wouldn’t listen.

So, she worked, he waited and they met at the bar once a month and pretended that nothing ever happened.

One day in the middle of February, when it was snowing again and the forecast predicted another snowstorm, her windows were dark, her house seemed empty and her cat scratched Snape’s door in his yearning for food and company. He sighed and let her ginger beast inside. And thirty minutes after that shaking and frightened Harry appeared near Snape’s doorstep.

“What am I to you?” Snape mumbled angrily “Some bloody Snowhite?”

“Sir, you’ve got to help me!” Harry screamed.

“Haven’t I been doing exactly this thing all these damned years, Potter?”

Harry waved his hand dismissively.

“Sir, it’s Hermione, she is with Ginny at Grimmauld now and she is ill with some mysterious disease! She’s shaking and sweating, and she’s definitely in pain but she refuses to go to St.Mungo’s! You’ve got to help us, Sir!”

“Stupid stubborn Gryffindors!” Snape cursed and grabbed his winter coat and half a dozen vials with different potions.

He understood her reasons too well and he wasn’t happy about them.

When he entered Grimmauld Twelve, Ginevra rushed towards him, mumbling something about worsening state of Miss Granger, Snape just shook his head and proceeded to the library. She was sitting there, teeth clattering, limbs shaking and lips trembling nervously. Her blood-red eyes and dilated pupils told him of sleepless nights, of nightmares and general post-war syndrome. She recognized him immediately and looked at the floor shamefully.

“Miss Granger,” he began, taking some vials with Calming Draught from his pocket and opening them for her.

“I don’t want to, Sir” she stuttered, “Don’t want to go to St. Mungo. Don’t want them to notice my…my…”

“Shhhh, Miss Granger, I am taking you home”

“I don’t want to be left….”

“You won’t be alone”

So, he took her to his place, where again he pumped her up with potions, tea and caring. She cried and suffered, and dreamed nightmares, and scared, clutched his shirt in her trembling fingers, but she stayed. She didn’t want the Healers to notice her scars and her distress, she didn’t want her friends to know that the bright Hermione Granger could be scared or confused, and above everything, she didn’t want to be left alone. Neither did he.

“I’m not a Hero, you know” he scolded habitually.

“You might be not, but you are the only one who understands” she whispered, “Besides, you will always be my Hero, and don’t you dare tell me it’s pathetic!”

After that, they started living together. He convinced her that being a clerk is no job for her talents and hinted that he might know some remedy for her parents’ memory loss, but she needed her NEWTs for that. Eyes bright and nearly bouncing with anticipation, she started her studying for exams and for a future career of a Healer. After all, there was only one remedy to keep Miss Granger from going insane – to make her study and to give her one more project.

She became his Apprentice and got a job in St.Mungo’s Mental Illnesses Ward. She was trying to help Longbottoms and her prognosis was very encouraging.

Snape opened an Apothecary and started brewing for private clients and Ministry orders. After all, it was she who convinced him that this pathetic world needed another Hero.

Twelve months passed. They spent a year full of anger, hatred, mutual misunderstanding, hesitation, vagueness, make-up sex, self-pity, and loathing, understanding, tenderness, respect, and love. And he learned to live with his past, he doesn't need it anymore. After all, love appeared not as scary as he always feared. And they found their new life under the branches of his old cherry-tree. 

They always wished for the snow to fall and make their life anew.

And the snow falls.

~Finite Incantatem~


End file.
